


Take the Long Way Home

by montecarlogirl87



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Time, M/M, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-13
Updated: 2014-12-13
Packaged: 2018-03-01 07:26:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2764739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/montecarlogirl87/pseuds/montecarlogirl87
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>post Season 3, slow burn wincest, lots of boy kissing and bonding :) it's quite fluffy, but still one of my favorite (own) fictions</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Says he was on his way home and a passerby found him the next morning, looks like he was mauled.”  
  
“And he wasn’t?” Dean asked, eyebrow quirked as he shoved another forkful of pancakes into his mouth.  
  
“No indigenous predators in the area, at least, none big enough to cause that amount of damage,” Sam offered, folding up the newspaper and returning his attention to his own plate.  
  
“Coulda just been a murder, what makes you think it’s our thing?”  
  
“No forensic evidence.  _None_.”

“Huh.”  
  
“Look...” Sam trailed off.  
  
They had both agreed to take it easy after Dean had come back, after Sam had  _brought him back_  from Hell. They had found a quiet little town in Colorado and holed up for a month, let Dean’s physical and mental wounds start to heal over. Sam could tell he was getting antsy to move on. The waitress had greeted them by name when they came in this morning and Sam had definitely saw a scowl on Dean’s face.  
  
“It just...it looks simple.”  
  
“Last case we took where somebody was mauled it ended up being a demon’s personal attack dogs,” Dean said, voice carefully guarded.  
  
Sam swallowed reflexively, hearing the crack through his tone either way.   
  
“I know,” he said quietly, dragging his fork through the runny yellow of his egg.  
  
“So where is it?” Dean asked, breaking the stony silence.  
  
“Dean...”  
  
“Where?” he asked again, spearing the last triangle of syrup soaked dough on his plate.  
  
“Kentucky.”  
  
Dean nodded.

* * *

 

“This is where he lived?” Dean asked, glancing back down the hallway as they made their way to his apartment.  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
Sam knocked hesitantly on the door, his and Dean’s ears listening for any movement inside.  
  
Dean shrugged, spinning around when the door across the hall squeaked open.  
  
Sam snatched his hand out of his pocket from where he had been pulling his lock pick out.  
  
“Sorry ma’am...we uh, we didn’t mean to disturb you.”  
  
The little old lady glared at them, her silver grey head of hair peaking out from the crack in the door.  
  
“You looking for Spencer?”  
  
“Yes ma’am,” Dean drawled, turning to face her.  
  
“He died,” she hissed, eyes pinned on them.  
  
“We heard,” Sam said softly, “Did you know him?”  
  
Her eyes darted between Sam and Dean again, the glare making Dean unsettled and he shifted to the right, slightly behind Sam’s shoulder in a protective movement.  
  
“And just who are you?”  
  
“We’re...friends, of Spencer’s,” Sam said.  
  
“You’re like him!” she hissed, “You get out of this building!” she spit out, turning to thrust a shaking finger through the door. “He died for his sins and you will too! You’re nothing but filth on this earth!” she said, slamming the door in their faces.  
  
“Well...that was...interesting,” Sam said, hands held in front of him.  
  
“What the hell was that all about?” Dean asked.  
  
“I don’t know. What ‘sins’ do you think she meant?”  
  
Dean shrugged. “Probably the kind that doesn’t exist. Crazy old bat, you said his record was clean.”  
  
Sam nodded, glancing down the hallway again before finally pulling his lock pick out.  
  
There wasn’t much left in the apartment. Whatever the police hadn’t found the need to confiscate had obviously started to be gone through by his friends and family. Furniture had already been moved out, there were a few boxes half packed in the hallway.  
  
Sam headed down the hall, while Dean picked his way through the living room, carefully peaking at what was boxed up.  
  
Sam stepped into what must have been his bedroom, he headed for the computer in the corner but it had already been unhooked, the tower taken and he sighed. He glanced around, picking up a picture frame that sat on the desk, Spencer grinning, with his arm wrapped around another guy’s shoulders.  
  
Sam placed it carefully back where it had been and opened the desk drawer, poking around in the mess of pencils and paperclips, glancing at a couple other pictures of Spencer and his friends.  
  
“This place has been picked over Sam,” Dean said, walking down the hall and propping his shoulder against the door frame. “We’re not gonna find anything here.”  
  
“Yeah, I know,” Sam sighed, sliding the drawer closed and walking towards the bathroom.  
  
He opened the medicine cabinet, nothing inside but a bottle of aspirin and a half empty Pepto Bismol. When he shut it again he finally noticed the square rainbow sticker stuck to the corner of the mirror.   
  
“Dean...”  
  
“Hmm?” he asked, picking up a t-shirt off the floor. “Dude, this guy was tiny!”  
  
“He was gay.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“That must have been what she was talking about.”  
  
Dean walked over to the bathroom door, eyes going to the rainbow sticker Sam was pointing at.  
  
“Huh.”

* * *

 

“You’ve  _got_  to be kidding me.”  
  
“It’s the last place he was seen alive Dean,” Sam sighed, honestly not liking the plan much more than Dean did.  
  
“But Sam,” he almost whined, “It’s bad enough that old crone thinks that...we’re...you know,” he said waving his hand, “but a  _gay bar?”_  
  
Sam sighed again, leaning back in his chair.  
  
“You think I like this any better than you do?” he asked. “I’ve tried doing this the paper trail way, I’ve got nothing. If anyone knows him it’s going to be there.”  
  
Dean sighed, unconsciously scratching at his stomach.  
  
“Fine,” he groaned. “But if anyone asks, you bottom.”  
  
Sam just rolled his eyes.

* * *

 

 _Open Door_  wasn’t as bad as Sam had thought. Well, honestly he didn’t think it would be, but the last thing he needed was to end up in some dressed in drag sleaze hole with Dean.  
  
And okay, so there  _were_  a couple guys in drag, but they were more for comedic entertainment than actual  _drag queens._  
  
And seeing Dean blush when ‘Lola’ came over and hit on him...was so worth it.  
  
Dean made a beeline for the bar, mumbling something about needing alcohol to make it through the night.  
  
Sam laughed, letting himself fall slightly behind, half in an attempt to start a conversation with someone and half just to see if Dean found himself in any tight spots.  
  
“You seem awfully comfortable with this,” Dean said, slamming back a shot when Sam finally came up next to him.  
  
Sam shrugged. “Went to a couple LGBT marches when I was at Stanford.”  
  
Dean’s eyebrow quirked. “Something I need to know?”  
  
Sam laughed, nodding at the bartender when he received his own beer, complete with a wink.  
  
“No, Jess and I had some friends that were gay.”  
  
“Can I buy you a drink?”  
  
Dean spun, startled by the guy that had come up beside him.  
  
“Uh...”  
  
“Sorry,” the guy quick backpedaled. “Didn’t know you were with someone,” he smiled apologetically at Sam, “Didn’t mean to butt in.”  
  
“It’s okay,” Sam smiled awkwardly.  
  
“Can we leave yet?” Dean whispered after he had left.  
  
Sam laughed and shook his head. “We came here for information Dean and I’m not leaving until we at least  _try_  to get some.”  
  
Dean’s eyebrow quirked again.  
  
“Get some information. God, is your head  _always_  in the gutter?”  
  
“I like it there,” Dean grinned.  
  
Sam rolled his eyes and pushed off the bar, letting Dean fend for himself.

* * *

 

A half hour later and the only information Sam had been able to get was two phone numbers.  
  
He was slowly making his way towards the bar when he spotted the guy talking to Dean. He was wearing a jacket and jeans, about their age. Nothing about him would have screamed ‘gay’ at him if he had passed him on the street, but what really caught him off guard was the way Dean seemed completely comfortable in whatever conversation he was having with him, not like the stuttering wide eyed horror he had shown before when the first guy hit on him.  
  
“Hey Sam,” Dean said, spotting him as he made his way through the crowd and handing over a beer.  
  
“So this is Sam,” the other guy grinned, casual sprawl across the bar.  
  
“Yup, Sam this is Logan,” Dean grinned, wrapping his arm around Sam’s waist and pulling him up beside him.  
  
Sam felt the heat flush his face as he stumbled to catch himself before completely falling on Dean but assumed that’s why Logan hadn’t been hitting on him, Dean had told him he was already taken.  
  
“Gotta say Dean,” Logan grinned, not so subtle gaze raking over Sam, “You’re lucky.”  
  
“Yeah, I know,” Dean grinned and Sam had to quick take a swallow of beer at the way it didn’t sound forced.  
  
“Logan here knew Spencer,” Dean said, turning to look at Sam, his arm still warm around his waist.  
  
“Sure did. He wasn’t the first to be killed either.”  
  
“There’s been more?” Sam asked, suddenly unconcerned with the awkwardness of the situation.  
  
“One, Adam went missing two weeks ago. Some kids found his body ‘bout a block from where they found Spencer’s.”  
  
“He was mauled too,” Dean said, catching Sam’s eye.  
  
“Cops figured it was a rabid bear or something, they don’t normally come this far into the city. Now I think they’re looking for serial killer.”  
  
“Any leads?”  
  
“None that I’ve heard of, there’s whispers obviously. All just speculation. Ask anybody in here and they’re gonna tell you it’s a hate crime.”  
  
“Has that happened before?” Dean asked, suddenly back into the conversation, brow draw down in concern, arm falling from around Sam’s waist.  
  
“Sure, once or twice in the past couple decades, but nothing like this.”  
  
“Thanks man,” Dean said, clapping Logan on the back. “We gotta get outta here though.”  
  
“Alright,” he grinned, “You gonna be around? I’ll buy you guys a beer next time.”  
  
Dean smiled, “Dunno man, but I’ll take ya up on that if we run into each other.”   
  
Logan nodded and grinned.

* * *

 

“So whatchya thinking in that big ol’ scary brain of yours?” Dean asked, shrugging off his jacket and draping it over the chair.  
  
“That I don’t really know you,” Sam grinned, toeing off his shoes before opening his laptop.  
  
“Yeah I know, your big homophobic brother actually talked to a gay guy, such a surprise,” Dean snapped, hurt evident in his tone.  
  
“That’s not...I didn’t think, I know you’re not homophobic Dean,” Sam scrambled, “I just, didn’t think you’d be comfortable there.”  
  
“He’s just a normal guy Sam,” Dean said, blatantly refusing to meet his eyes as he flipped through the grainy TV channels.  
  
And yeah, sometimes Sam wondered if he really didn’t know his brother half as well as he thought he did.

* * *

 

They were halfway through bucket of fried chicken and six pack when Sam finally had a sketchy theory formed.  
  
“Alright...so, I ran with the hate crime idea Logan had. Turns out, eight years ago this guy, Kyle Jameson, beats up a gay couple, one of ‘em dies later at the hospital and the other tracks him back down and kills him.”  
  
“Revenge?”  
  
“Basically.”  
  
“Alright, so what are you thinking?”  
  
“Kyle Jameson...was killed in the park. Two blocks away from where Spencer and the other body was found.”  
  
“You thinking he’s our spook? Going after gay guys?”  
  
“ _Open Door_...opened for business a two weeks before the first guy went missing.”  
  
Dean sighed, leaning back into a sprawl in his chair.  
  
“Tell me you know where this asshole is buried.”  
  
“I know where the asshole is buried,” Sam grinned.

* * *

 

The salt and burn was easy, the cemetery quiet, dirt soft beneath their shovels.  
  
They were halfway back to the car when Sam realized Dean had stopped a couple of steps back.  
  
He came up beside him and glanced at the black plastic temporary grave marker that was stuck in the ground.  
  


_Spencer Olsen  
1980-2008_

  
Dean didn’t offer an explanation. He finally just sighed, glanced up at Sam before looking away quickly and made his way back to the Impala.

* * *

 

“Hey...Sam?”  
  
Sam opened his eyes in the pitch dark of the room and rolled over onto his back.  
  
“Yeah?” he asked hesitantly.   
  
The first week out of Hell Dean had talked to him in the dark. Told him little things that he could remember, things that bothered him. The darkness provided a safety blanket for them, they couldn’t see each other and somehow that made talking easier.  
  
Sam wasn’t sure if he should feel upset or pleased over that fact.   
  
On the one hand he didn’t want Dean feeling like he had to hide from him. He had never been much of a talker when it came to emotions, but had allowed himself a little leeway after he came back. Sam suspected it had as much to do with Dean thinking  _he_  needed it as to Dean himself actually needing to talk.  
  
But on the other hand, Dean was actually  _talking_  to him and even if it was under the cover of darkness Sam would take what he could get.  
  
“You ever...”   
  
Dean paused, clearing his throat a moment later and breaking the tense silence that had followed.  
  
“You ever, done, anything...you know, with a guy?”  
  
Sam was caught off guard by the question. Whatever he was expecting it sure wasn’t _that_. But he had promised that when Dean opened up like this he would never lie, never hold back, even if he had never exactly let Dean in on that little fact.  
  
“Sort of.”  
  
“Sort of?” Dean shot back, and Sam could tell that he had turned his head towards him, could see the silver blue halo around the silhouette of Dean’s hair in the room’s window.  
  
“It was at a party, at Stanford. One of Jess’ friends was gay, he was drunk off his ass and apparently didn’t know I was with her, we had just started dating. He never would have tried anything otherwise.”  
  
“What happened?” Dean asked softly.  
  
“He came at me, shoved his tongue in my mouth and groped me right there in the kitchen,” Sam said, breathing out a huff of a laugh. “I spazzed so bad when I shoved him away he collided with the fridge. Jess came in a minute later and I guess he must have realized that I was with her. There were some awkward apologies the next week,” he laughed again.  
  
Dean grunted into the shadows and Sam wasn’t sure what to make of that.  
  
“What about you?” he asked quietly.  
  
“There was this chick one time in Indiana. I was pretty out of it, hyped up on adrenaline after a hunt and drug down with booze. She slipped into her bathroom and I’m thinking she was gonna come out in a teddy or something right,” he said and Sam could  _hear_  his grin. “Came out with a damn strap-on on.”  
  
Sam might have squeaked, he tried to cover it with a nervous chuckle.  
  
“And you...”  
  
“Hell yeah man, I was horny,” Dean laughed again, “I wasn’t about to just leave.”  
  
Sam laughed again, wondering how talking about girls in strap-ons and drunken college groping could be so comfortable. Sure, the topic was out of left field, but there was something about the smooth whispered conversation between the two of them that made it all okay.  
  
The silence that followed was easy and relaxed and Sam turned his head to stare at Dean’s profile backlit by the window when he spoke again.  
  
“There was this one time, I didn’t have enough money for a room,” he said softly and Sam could see the lump of his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallowed. “I woulda just slept in the car, but it was way too damn cold. So...” he sighed again.  
  
Sam was torn between burying his head under the pillow to block out what Dean said next and leaning across the canyon between the beds and begging him to continue.  
  
“I went down on my knees in the alley behind the local bar,” he said quietly. “And lemme tell ya man, chicks make it look way easier than it is,” he said, forcing a laugh, as if to soften the blow of the words before it.  
  
Sam’s tongue felt glued to the roof of his mouth and he swallowed reflexively trying to find his voice.  
  
“Where was I?” he finally asked, voice breaking and making him wince.   
  
Maybe he hadn’t always paid attention to Dean’s conquests, more than once he had turned an annoyed blind eye on them, but he was pretty sure he would remember a situation like that.  
  
“School,” Dean whispered.  
  
Sam couldn’t find anything to say after that.


	2. Chapter 2

Sam was staring blankly at his laptop screen when Dean came in, sliding a pizza box onto the table, six pack of beer clanking down beside it.  
  
“What’s up?”  
  
Sam just shook his head, gaze flitting to Dean before going back to the laptop screen.  
  
“Just thinking,” he mumbled.  
  
“Dude, I hate when you go all introspective.”  
  
Sam looked up more out of surprise at Dean using the word ‘introspective’ than the fact that he was really paying any attention.  
  
“Why don’t you go...extrospective?” Dean said, waving his hand across the table as he sat down across from him.

“Extro...that’s not even a word,” he said, eyes slightly squinted but his lips tugged up into a half smirk.  
  
Dean just shrugged, waving his hand in dismissal. “Whatever, so whatchya thinking about?” he asked, kicking his boots up on the empty chair and cracking open a beer.  
  
Sam watched him for another minute before looking away again.  
  
“Just...everything,” he finally sighed.  
  
Dean nodded, lips pursed.   
  
“So what do you like better? Cheddar or Swiss?”  
  
“What?” Sam asked, eyes shooting back to Dean.  
  
“Well you said you were thinking about ‘everything.’”  
  
Sam shook his head, chuckling softly.  
  
“Just...us. Mom, Dad, bringing you back, my freakin’ demon blood, just...everything,” he mumbled.  
  
“Hey, c’mon man, we said we were gonna take it easy a couple months,” Dean said, putting his feet back on the floor.  
  
“I know, I just...” he sighed, getting up and lacing his fingers through his hair, turning away from Dean.  
  
“I dunno man, it just catches up with me sometimes. I mean...when you were, when...” he inhaled again, “I was so scared man,” he whispered, finally turning back around so Dean could see him. “I was so scared I wouldn’t be able to get you back,” he said softly, everything he had kept bottled up fizzing over and sending a rogue tear to slip down his face. “God,” he sighed, slamming his back against the wall and letting himself slide down into a pile on the floor. “I didn’t wanna do it alone...I couldn’t.”  
  
“Hey, hey, hey,” Dean said, voice soft and controlled as he came over and squatted down next to him.  
  
“I’m right here,” he murmured. “You brought me back, I’m right here Sammy, not goin’ anywhere,” he said softly, reaching out to lay his hand tentatively on Sam’s shoulder.  
  
“I know,” he inhaled, leaning his head back against the wall. “I just...every morning when I wake up I still panic for a split second...afraid you’re not going to be in that bed,” he whispered, finally looking over at Dean.  
  
Dean swallowed hard under the scrutiny, shifting so his ankles and thighs weren’t burning from the strain.  
  
“As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t hate you.”  
  
Dean looked back up, brow creased in confusion.  
  
“For making the deal. I woulda done anything to...” Sam trailed off.  
  
“I wanna thank you for that,” Dean rumbled, voice thick with emotion. “For getting me out.”  
  
Sam huffed out a laugh, reaching up to scrub his hands over his face, erasing the sticky tracks his tears had left behind. “You sold your soul for me, you kinda don’t need to thank me.”  
  
“Maybe I want to.”  
  
Sam looked back up at Dean, eyes still warm and itchy.  
  
“When I was down there,” Dean swallowed, looking away for a second. “They uh...they have ways of making you forget...”  
  
Sam shifted, pulling himself away from the wall a couple inches.  
  
“And even when I couldn’t remember my own name,” Dean said, forcing a smirk, “I held onto you,” he whispered, voice cracking. “I just...I held onto you Sammy.”  
  
Dean had told him before, little things about what he could remember, claimed most of it was lost in a fuzzy post-traumatic lockbox in his head. Sam had never really been sure whether Dean was telling the truth or whether he was keeping it hidden for Sam’s sake.  
  
“You...you remember?” he whispered, “Dean, you said...”  
  
“I’m fine,” he grinned, the smirk not quite so forced. “It’s fine Sam,  _I’m_  fine, I just...I’m just saying,” he said, casual shrug of his shoulder. “If it wasn’t for you...I wouldn’t have made it out intact, whether you brought me back or not.”  
  
“Dean...” Sam whispered, voice getting clogged in his throat and his eyes burning again.  
  
“Hey,” Dean soothed, broad palm sliding over Sam’s shoulder blade to pull him towards him, “C’mere.”  
  
It was like twenty years had just been washed away with his tears and Sam was a kid again, burying his fingers in his big brother’s shirt when it all seemed to be too much to handle.  
  
“Dean...” he whispered, unsure as to why he even said his name, arm wrapping around Dean’s shoulder, the cotton of his shirt curling around his fingers, when he fisted it in his hand.  
  
“I got ya man,” Dean murmured, letting Sam bury his face in the crook of his neck. “I’m right here, you’re here, we’re alright,” he whispered, tumbled run-on of words whose only purpose was to soothe and comfort.   
  
Dean held Sam like that, tucked up against him until long after he had stopped crying. Sam’s knee was digging into his thigh and the tears and snot that were smeared across his neck was pretty gross but having Sam close to him, feeling the steady expansion and collapse of his ribs under his hands, felt better than he would ever admit to.  
  
And Dean figured, after everything they had been through, Hell and back  _literally_ , then the world could shove it, the Winchesters were due some chick flick moments damnit.  
  
He had let himself open a little bit after he came back, cracked open doors that he had kept bolted and chained closed most of his life. Knew Sam needed it just as much as he did. And Dean wouldn’t deny, well, he might not admit it  _out loud_ , but he wouldn’t deny it to himself, that having that with Sam had helped, had felt nice, for lack of a better term.  
  
He hadn’t realized just how long it had been since the wide hero-worshiping eyes of a twelve year old had seemed to turn to angry and accusing almost overnight when Sam had hit puberty and started pushing back against their life. How the space between them had turned from sidewalk into an interstate that Dean didn’t dare cross in fear of becoming a bloody smear under the wheels of Sam’s temper.  
  
And finally, it felt like the traffic had slowed and he could make it across the asphalt to the green on the other side. He found himself not wanting to go back to the desolate, lonely desert he had been stranded in.  
  
Sam’s breathing had finally returned to normal and Dean shifted, letting the wall take the brunt of their weight.  
  
Sam laughed softly, pulling back just enough to where his face wasn’t smashed against Dean, but lingered in the protective circle of his arms.  
  
“Kinda sucks...us being so ridiculously co-dependent,” he smirked, eyes crossing slightly at how close he was to Dean.  
  
Dean chuckled too, light soft rumble in his chest and he shrugged one shoulder, feeling the muscle bunch and shift against Sam’s.  
  
“Yeah...but I kinda don’t mind,” he grinned.  
  
“Yeah...me either,” Sam finally whispered.  
  
Dean stared at Sam, mesmerized by the way his blue-green eyes had taken on a grey cast, eyelids still rimmed in red.  
  
“You wanna go out?” he finally asked softly, swallowing thickly around the words, around the way Sam was still staring back at him.  
  
Sam shook his head slowly, glancing down for a split second before meeting Dean’s eyes again, sitting back just enough to make his hand slide around Dean’s side to rest on his stomach.  
  
“Not really.”  
  
Dean nodded, looking across the room, shaken by the gravity of the situation finally setting in, his own palm on Sam’s lower back, thumb sweeping back and forth in a slow nervous twitch.  
  
“How ‘bout we dig into that pizza and find a movie on TV to watch?” Sam asked softly, slow grin clashing against his still puffy eyes as he glanced at Dean through his bangs.  
  
“Yeah,” he whispered, “Sounds good.”

* * *

 

They shared Dean’s bed, the only place in the brilliantly arranged room that you could sit and watch TV without getting a crick in your neck.  
  
The pizza box was empty, set precariously half on the table between the beds. A half eaten crust and a plastic cup full of marinara sauce that tipped over and spilled across the cardboard was all that was left.  
  
Dean had tossed his empty beer can somewhere in the vicinity of the trashcan but Sam had a sneaking suspicion it actually ended up under the desk.  
  
They were both propped up against the headboard, some horrid upholstered thing. The only thing going for it was the fact that it had enough padding to make it comfortable.  
  
Dean had the blanket twisted around his legs, covering him from hip to ankle with his feet sticking out the side, Sam’s long legs, bent and tenting the thin fabric beside him.  
  
Dean groaned, reaching behind his head to punch at his pillow before scooting down, one arm thrown behind his head the other lain across his stomach.  
  
“Dude, you coulda told me you wanted to go to sleep,” Sam said, already reaching for the remote and turning the volume down, grinning at Dean when he cracked his eye open.  
  
“S’alright, you can stay up if you want.”  
  
“Naw, I think I’ll turn in too,” Sam said, sliding his legs over the side of the bed.  
  
He was stopped short when Dean’s hand locked around his wrist.  
  
“Stay here,” he whispered and Sam stared at him, not entirely convinced he heard him right.  
  
“What?” he squawked, wincing at how his voice broke and expecting Dean to call him on it.  
  
“Bed’s already warm,” he mumbled, finally releasing his grip from Sam’s wrist.  
  
“Dean...” Sam started, pausing when he wasn’t sure how he had intended to finish the statement.  
  
“Just...this way, you’ll know I’m right here when you wake up,” he said softly, staring at the TV before looking back up at Sam.  
  
Sam stared at him, completely caught off guard. Half because of the fact that Dean had brought it back up and half because of what he was suggesting.  
  
“Not like we haven’t shared a bed before,” Dean grinned, flipping the switch from concerned and sympathetic to sarcastic and laid back in the blink of an eye.  
  
“When we were kids!” Sam grinned.  
  
Dean shrugged again, throwing his arm back behind his head.  
  
“You’re serious?” Sam finally asked, when Dean was still watching him expectantly, lips tugged up into a grin.  
  
“Why not?” he said softly.  
  
And even if Sam had been able to come up with an excuse he didn’t plan on using it.  
  
He reached over and clicked the lamp off between the beds and eased himself under the covers, body tense with nerves. Dean was right, it’s not like they  _hadn’t_  done this before, but something was different, he could feel it, dancing under his skin like static and pulsing in time with the beat of his heart.  
  
He felt Dean shift behind him, felt his body heat settle across his back like a physical blanket and felt Dean’s hand settle in the dip of the bed, knuckles bumping against his spine.  
  
Sam inhaled deep and shifted back just barely, feeling the hard press of Dean’s fingers along his back.  
  
“You try hogging the bed and I end up on the floor you’ll regret it, trust me,” he said softly, forcing the joking lilt into his tone.  
  
Dean chuckled behind him and he could feel the whuff of his breath across the back of his neck, sending a shiver down his spine.  
  
He froze when Dean wrapped an arm around his waist and yanked him back across the last couple inches between them until his back was pressed against Dean’s chest, the steady rise and fall of his breathing pressing against his back.  
  
He felt Dean’s nose settle somewhere around the crook of his shoulder, could feel him breathe against him and unconsciously fell into the same rhythmic pattern.  
  
“Used to do this when you were a kid,” he mumbled.  
  
Sam concentrated on keeping his breathing level for a moment before he answered.  
  
“I remember,” he said quietly, thinking of the long nights when their Dad was who knows where and the shadows fell just a little too long across the bedroom walls. Or there was a raccoon outside that made just a little too much noise, the tree out back that creaked a little too ominously or just when the dark seemed too all consuming.   
  
Dean had let him crawl into bed with him then too. Never asked, never made fun, just held his sheets back until Sam had slotted himself into Dean’s space and only relaxed when Dean wrapped a protective arm around him.  
  
“No,” Dean slurred, “Bef’re then, when you were little,” he sighed. “After Mom.”  
  
Sam paused at that, waited for Dean to continue.  
  
“You used to cry and cry, nothing Dad could do would get you to stop. I’d crawl into your crib and you’d go right to sleep,” he whispered.  
  
“You remember that?” Sam asked, rolling onto his back so he could see Dean’s eyes, his hand coming to rest next to Dean’s on his stomach.  
  
“Not really, it’s more like a shadow of a memory. But Dad wrote about it, in his journal...you didn’t know?”  
  
“No, I never...I mean, I’m sure I read ‘em at some point in time, I just sort of left ‘em alone. They were his personal entries.”  
  
Dean shrugged, looking down at the black field of Sam’s t-shirt where their hands sat in sharp contrast.  
  
“Guess even then I knew I was safe with you,” he whispered, smiling softly when Dean’s eyes shot back to his.  
  
Dean’s eyes bounced back and forth between his, colors lost in the darkness, only a faint outline visible from the anemic neon sign outside.  
  
“You need a haircut,” he murmured, reaching up to tug on a wave of hair falling into Sam’s eyes, grinning when Sam scoffed at him.  
  
“You could do it.”  
  
Dean barked out a laugh, bringing it back down to the held back chuckle, tying to keep quiet in the dark even if there was no need.  
  
“Last time I cut your hair I put a bowl on your head dude,” he grinned.  
  
Sam shrugged, shoulder pushing against Dean’s with the movement, “I’m pretty sure you’ve progressed from that,” he grinned.  
  
Dean rolled his eyes and relaxed back onto his pillow, on his back but with his body tilted ever so slightly towards Sam.  
  
They laid in silence and after warring with himself Sam shifted, letting his head fall onto Dean’s shoulder under the guise of getting comfortable.  
  
He let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding when Dean shifted, lifting his arm so Sam could settle against his side.  
  
“I’ll make you a deal...” Dean said quietly, piercing through the dark.  
  
“I don’t like deals,” Sam said petulantly.  
  
Dean chuckled, the rumble in his chest going straight through Sam’s back and shoulder.  
  
“When we’re...when we’re home...”  
  
Sam craned his neck to look up at him, eyebrows drawn in confusion.  
  
“Well, you know, in a motel room,” Dean corrected, waving a hand in the dark. “Or even the Impala...and it’s, it’s just us...” he paused and Sam could see the glimmer of spit as his tongue snaked out to wet his bottom lip. “No walls,” he finally said quietly, “Between us.”  
  
Sam shifted onto his side, looking up at Dean.  
  
“You mean that?” he asked quietly.  
  
Dean met his eyes in silence for a moment.  
  
“Yeah,” he finally whispered.  
  
Sam swallowed hard against the lump in his throat and had to look away, watching the glow of headlights through the curtains as they swept across the road.  
  
All he could hear was the swish of tires across wet pavement, the slow drizzle of rain still pattering outside and the quiet rattle as the weak air conditioner struggled to keep the room comfortable.  
  
Dean finally grunted and his arm tightened around Sam’s shoulders, pulling him back towards his chest.  
  
Sam went willingly, body fitting up against Dean’s, blanket crumpled around their stomachs and he fell asleep to the beat of Dean’s heart.

* * *

 

The next night, when Sam came out of the shower, some 500-odd miles and a half a state later, he felt all the easy comfort between them slide away in a sudden rush of wanting to strangle Dean.  
  
He had apparently went and got dinner for them while Sam was in the shower, which was fine, but his bed was strewn with styrofoam containers of barbeque ribs, baked beans and southern biscuits.  
  
Even that wasn’t the problem, the problem was that Dean had already dug into his portion and the evidence was left all over the bed. Biscuit crumbs were collected in little pools in the folds of the comforter, the spoon he had used to scoop out the baked beans was sitting  _on_  the comforter, brown sauce gluing the fabric to it, wet sweating Pepsi bottle sitting in a damp circle on the white sheet and he was pretty sure it was a smear of barbeque sauce and grease that was up on the pillow.  
  
“Goddamnit Dean, if you wanna make a friggin’ mess then make it on your own bed!” he yelled, throwing his wet towel down on the carpet wishing it would make more of an impact than its muted whump.  
  
Dean’s eyes went wide as he pulled them away from the TV and turned to look at Sam.  
  
“What?”  
  
“What?!” Sam plowed on, waving a hand over the disaster area of the second bed. “You know there’s a perfectly good table over there you didn’t have to go and turn my bed into a buffet counter!”  
  
“Your bed?” Dean repeated in confusion, brow drawing down as he looked over at the food spread out. Finally his eyes snapped back to Sam’s, “I thought...I mean, I assumed that you...we...” he stumbled, eyes falling to the other half of the bed that he had left open.  
  
Suddenly Sam deflated, finally noticing the slight hurt glaze to Dean’s eyes, the way he was shifting nervously on  _his half_  of the bed, and steadfastly refusing to meet Sam’s eyes.  
  
“Wait...you mean...”  
  
“Well that’s what I  _thought_ ,” Dean said, “Look, sorry, I’ll take that bed, I didn’t know you...”  
  
“I thought that’s why you got a double,” Sam mumbled, cutting him off before Dean could slide his legs over the side of the bed.  
  
Dean froze and looked up at him.  
  
“Double’s cheaper Sam.”  
  
Sam hung his head and laughed softly   
  
“Sorry...I just...” he sighed, “Sorry,” he mumbled, picking up the take home box with his portion of ribs in it and collapsed on the bed next to Dean, grinning at him when he turned to see Dean staring at him like he had grown another head.  
  
Finally Dean grinned back, flicking Sam on the forehead and settled back against his pillows, shoulder to shoulder while they watched TV.

* * *

 

By the end of the month the only reason they were still getting a double was because they  _were_  cheaper.  
  
Dean no longer went pale and fidgety under the suspicious looks of the motel clerks when they’d both walk in the door. Sam wasn’t sure if it was because of the case they had taken, Dean finally becoming comfortable with the subject or whether it was how comfortable they had both become with each other.  
  
When they were out, eating, researching, hunting, it was still as it always was. And maybe if they were just a tad more in tune with each other, communicated a tad more silently and brushed shoulders or bumped hands a tad more frequently, neither one of them really cared.  
  
Dean still flirted his ass off, Sam still shook his head and laughed in quiet exasperation, sitting quietly whenever Dean went to the bathroom and the waitress happened to go missing at the same time.  
  
But at night they slipped into the same bed, slipped into each other’s arms like there was nothing to it. And maybe it should have alarmed them, how easily they fit together, how safe and warm and right it felt being able to have that with each other.  
  
But given their lives, everything they had gone though from the time they were too little to talk, from death and back, Sam couldn’t find it in himself to care. Dean had always been the focal point in his life, he knew the reverse was true for Dean.   
  
Hunting had always been their lives, even when Sam went to Stanford, it was like a shadow following him around. He’d never admit how easy it had been to fall back into it after he hit the road with Dean again, would never admit how good it felt to  _have that_ with Dean again. And now it just felt like everything had fallen in place. Their Dad might have died in the fight, but they had finally killed the demon that had haunted them their entire lives. They had both fought, and won, against death and feeling Dean’s solid warmth behind him at night...it felt like coming home.


	3. Chapter 3

“Jesus Sammy,” Dean hissed, wrapping his arm around his shoulders as he kicked the motel room door open. “C’mon, I got ya,” he mumbled, leading them over to the spare bed and helping him sit down.  
  
“Shit,” he whispered, watching as Sam’s face pinched in pain. “C’mon, help me get your shirt off dude,” he said softly, helping Sam pull his arms through the sleeves and wishing he had just cut the damn thing off when Sam winced.  
  
He disappeared back outside and Sam heard the creak of the Impala’s door before it slammed shut and Dean came thundering back inside, slamming the motel room behind him.  
  
There was a pounding on the wall, obviously whoever had the room next to them was not appreciative of all the slamming doors at o’clock in the morning.

“Fuck off!” Dean yelled, hitting his knees in front of Sam and yanking viciously on the zipper of their first aid bag.  
  
Sam laughed lightly, his arm wrapped around his ribs and felt better when Dean glanced up at him under his lashes and smirked.  
  
“Alright, lemme see,” Dean mumbled, pushing Sam’s arm away to take stock of the damage.  
  
There was a pretty slash across his collarbone that despite bleeding like a stuck pig didn’t look to need stitches and there was an impressive bruise starting to bloom across his ribs.  
  
Dean gingerly felt around his stomach, mumbling an apology whenever he’d hit a sore spot and hear Sam hiss. He grabbed some peroxide and a cloth from the bag and wiped away the majority of the blood, letting out a breath when it didn’t look as bad as it originally had. He felt around the ball of his shoulder, eyeing the way Sam was holding his arm but again, couldn’t find more than bruising.  
  
“Goddamnit Sam,” he whispered and Sam opened his eyes to look at him, swallowing hard when Dean reached up and pulled him down to rest his forehead against his. “You scared the crap outta me.”  
  
Sam reached forward, letting his hand fall warm on Dean’s shoulder, thumb slotting itself in the groove of his collar bone.  
  
“We gotta stop going on these kamikaze missions for each other,” he mumbled, eyes closed as he held Sam close to him.  
  
“I’m never gonna  _not_  try to keep you safe Dean,” Sam said quietly, watching as Dean opened his eyes to look at him.  
  
“Me either,” he finally said, lips tugging into a smirk.  
  
“You alright?” he asked, hand sliding down Dean’s arm to poke at the rip in his jacket.  
  
“Yeah, ‘m fine,” he mumbled, hand unconsciously gripping Sam’s neck tighter.  
  
He blinked his eyes back open and stared at Sam for a moment before he leaned in and just barely grazed a kiss across the corner of Sam’s lips before automatically pulling back.  
  
Sam made a noise in the back of his throat and slipped his own hand to the back of Dean’s neck, nerves jittery and tense but knowing he didn’t want Dean to pull away.  
  
“Don’t...” he whispered.  
  
“Sam...”  
  
“Don’t,” he said again, softly but without the same hesitation as before and he opened his eyes to stare at Dean.  
  
Dean leaned in again hesitantly, eyes flicking between Sam’s eyes and his lips and Sam closed the gap between them, soft press of chapped lips.  
  
Dean held the contact for a split second, one hand on the back of Sam’s neck, one on his knee, his fingers digging into the denim before he pulled back again and pulled in an uneven breath, closing his eyes, nose bumping against Sam’s.  
  
When he finally opened his eyes again Sam was staring at him, his thumb sweeping across the stubble on his cheek, gaze falling to his lips before snapping back to his eyes.  
  
Sam leaned in, his fingers tightening around Dean’s neck as if to make sure he couldn’t pull back.  
  
The kiss was chaste, just a tentative press of lips but was way more intimate than the peck you would give your mom or an aunt. And when Sam inhaled shakily Dean could feel the air dance across his lips.  
  
“We shouldn’t...” he mumbled, staring at the Sam’s parted lips and made a move to rock back onto his heels.  
  
Sam’s fingers tightened around his neck almost painfully and his other hand came up to dig into his bicep. The move caused him to wince in pain and Dean froze in his tracks.  
  
“Sammy?”  
  
He smiled softly, “I’m alright, just moved too fast.”  
  
“Jesus Sam,” Dean whispered, his hand sliding down to cup Sam’s cheek and he sighed when Sam leaned into the touch and looked at him expectantly.  
  
“Gotta put...put this away,” he said quietly, hand dropping to grab the first aid bag in a white knuckled grip and he forced his legs to make him stand.  
  
“Dean...”  
  
“I’ll be right back Sammy,” he murmured, heading to the bathroom and shutting the door quietly behind him.  
  
When he finally stopped shaking and found enough courage to open the door again Sam had slipped into bed, curled onto his side, with his arm wrapped around his waist. Dean’s stomach did a flip at the sudden need to just go comfort Sam, overlaid with the nerves from before.  
  
Sam cracked his eyes open when the bathroom door squeaked and Dean was just a little bit jealous at how downright calm he looked, he should at least be half as shot to hell at Dean was over the kiss. Over  _their kiss._  
  
Dean was tempted to be a coward and climb into the spare bed but considering they had been sleeping together for months he knew that plan was flawed. The only thing it would result in was an uncomfortable conversation that he wouldn’t be able to deflect thanks to  _his_  genius ‘no walls’ idea and neither of them would succeed in getting any sleep.  
  
And yeah, okay, that was probably going to happen if he slipped in bed with Sam anyways, but then at least he would be  _with_  Sam, have his comfortable warmth and scent and presence right there beside him for this existential crisis.  
  
And Dean was so not going to dwell on the fact that curling up with the same brother he had just kissed was the more tempting of the two options.  
  
“Dean,” Sam said softly, snapping him out of the daze he had been in.  
  
He reached behind him and snapped the light off in the bathroom, flooding the room in darkness and hesitantly and with a little more trouble than normal, stripped down to his boxers and t-shirt before pulling back the covers on the bed.  
  
Sam let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding, a small part of him afraid Dean would take the out and sleep in the spare bed.  
  
“Look Sam...” Dean said softly after an uncomfortable silence.  
  
“How ‘bout you think about it before you automatically shoot it down?”  
  
Dean turned his head in surprise, staring at the shadow and faint outline of Sam, backlit with the window, some sort of pinkish yellow hue coming from the crappy florescent lights outside.  
  
“Sam...” he started again.  
  
“Why not?”  
  
“Because we’re brothers.”  
  
“So.”  
  
“So? Sam...”  
  
“It’s just a way to show affection.”  
  
Dean turned to look at him, eyebrow arched as he tried to hold back a laugh.  
  
“That was lame dude,” he grinned when Sam smiled at him.  
  
“Why not? Seriously. After everything we’ve been through, all the shit we have to deal with, why can’t we have something between us?”  
  
Dean swallowed hard, looking away from Sam’s eyes, even if he couldn’t exactly see them in the dark.  
  
“Dean,” Sam said softly, hand reaching up to cup his cheek and Dean closed his eyes at the way his spine shivered, leaning into the touch. “It’s just us.”  
  
“Sammy...” he whispered. “You’re everything to me, always have been,” he forced out past the lump in his throat. “I’m not...I don’t want to...”  
  
“You’re not forcing me, if that’s what you’re thinking. You’re not brainwashing me, you’re not taking advantage of me. I’m a big boy, I can make my own decisions. And yeah, I realize this is pretty fucked up, but since when were we ever  _not_?”  
  
Dean watched him, trying to breathe past the stitch in his chest.  
  
“All I know,” Sam finally said after a beat of silence. “Is the way I felt when you kissed me. And I know I don’t wanna go the rest of my life without feeling that way again,” he finished softly.  
  
Dean pulled in a breath and closed his eyes again. This wasn’t ‘pretty fucked up’ this was a mile down the road from ‘pretty fucked up’ and around the left hand turn in the road, but damn him if he didn’t wanna pull Sam up against him and map his lips with his own.   
  
“You’re everything to me Dean. I’m past that shit with Dad, don’t get me wrong, but you were more of a parent than he ever was. You’re my brother...and my dad,  _and mom_ ,” he grinned when Dean sent him a half hearted glare. “You’re my teacher and mentor, trainer and hero. You’re my best friend, you’re  _everything_ ,” he said softly. “You always have been.”  
  
Dean swallowed hard.  
  
“Then why’d you leave?” he asked softly, not caring how weak and broken he sounded.  
  
Sam’s hand slipped, fingers dragging over the thin fabric of his t-shirt and Sam stared at Dean’s chest where his fingertips came to settle over the steady thump of Dean’s heart.  
  
“I didn’t want to. I just wanted to go to school, I never...I never wanted it, it was never supposed to go down like it did. I just wanted to go, hook up with you guys whenever I had break. It was never supposed to be so cut off. I never...I never wanted to leave you Dean...never.”  
  
“I called you for six months Sammy,” Dean whispered, voice breaking as he forced himself to finally confront the thought that had been a slow burn in the back of his mind ever since the door slammed behind Sam on the day he walked out. “You never picked up, not once, never called back.”  
  
“I was scared.”  
  
“Of what?!” Dean squawked.  
  
“You. Of you asking me to come back. God Dean, I was so alone when I got there. I thought I could just bullshit and fit right in, I mean, that’s what we do right? But I was the weird kid that didn’t know anybody and didn’t have anything. I missed you, I...I missed home. And I was so scared that you were going to ask me to come back, all you would have had to do was ask me to come back,” he trailed off softly. “And I would have dropped everything and ran.”  
  
Dean watched him, eyes bouncing back and forth between Sam’s, his hand coming up to cup the knob of Sam’s elbow when his voice cracked with emotion, his thumb sweeping back and forth over the cord of muscle.  
  
“I never would have done that,” he murmured. “That’s what you wanted Sammy, to go to school...I never would have asked you to walk away from it.”  
  
Sam stared at him for a moment.   
  
“Maybe you wouldn’t have had to,” he said quietly. “God, you have no idea how much I missed you. I couldn’t even bring myself to listen to any of your messages until classes started. Used the fact that I was spending the scholarship money to guilt trip myself into staying after I heard your voice.”  
  
Dean sighed, felt the pressure of Sam’s hand increase as his chest expanded against his palm.  
  
“We okay?” Sam finally asked, tearing his eyes away from his own hand to look back up at Dean from under his bangs.  
  
Dean could feel his hand shift, pulling the fabric of his shirt away from his chest as Sam curled it around his fingers and managed to nod slowly.  
  
“You sure?” he asked quietly, letting his eyes fall to Sam’s lips.  
  
“Yeah,” he whispered.  
  
Dean sighed again before letting his hand slip up to Sam’s cheek, tilting his head until he could seal his lips over Sam’s.  
  
It was still awkward, they bumped noses until they figured out how to move against each other but after a few tentative grazes they were pressing their lips together more firmly, pulling back to look at each other for a split second before kissing again. It wasn’t always soft, wasn’t always held back and guarded but it was always chaste. Whether it was subconscious or not neither one of them let their tongues meet, content at the slightly dry press of lips between them.

* * *

 

When Sam woke up he froze, immediately noticing the lack of warmth behind him and his eyes shot over to the spare bed.  
  
He sighed when he saw his blood soaked shirt piled on the corner, the sheets still made and smooth except for where they were wrinkled from when Sam had collapsed onto it the night before.  
  
The toilet flushed in the bathroom and his eyes shot up to see Dean come out fully dressed.  
  
“Hey...didn’t mean to wake you.”  
  
“S’alright,” Sam mumbled, sitting up and digging at his eye.   
  
“Why don’t you take a shower, I’m just gonna go gas up the car and then I figured we could head into town and hit up that diner that promised homemade pie,” he grinned waggling his eyebrows and Sam couldn’t help but laugh, whatever knot of tension he had in his stomach over the night before untying itself under the force of Dean’s smile.  
  
“Sounds good,” he finally grinned, nodding before looking up at Dean as he slipped his arms into his leather jacket and snatched the keys off the table.  
  
“Alright, I’ll be back in a few,” he said coming over to him and bending down to kiss him on the lips before heading to the door in one quick smooth movement that left Sam stunned that it had even happened. At how  _easily_  it had happened.  
  
He heard the door click shut behind him and turned his head over his shoulder to see Dean twist in his seat in the car as he backed the Impala out of the parking space and Sam couldn’t help but smile.

* * *

 

The first couple weeks Dean let Sam instigate everything. Sam figured it had something to do with making sure Sam  _wanted_  this new thing between them, making sure he wasn’t forcing the issue. The only thing that Dean wouldn’t hesitate on was the quick goodbye kisses he would give before one of them went out.  
  
Sam was tempted to tease him on it, on how domestic it all was but everything had shifted back when they had started sharing the same bed and it was like everything had shifted all over again and Sam couldn’t bring himself to tease about it. Not when he found himself thinking about crawling into bed with Dean at the end of the day and finally being able to relax.   
  
It was like finally his life wasn’t hunting and research and blood and pain. Instead of living for the next fight, fighting to live the next day it was suddenly waiting for the next time they could let their guard down. Waiting for the next night when he could curl up against Dean, let his lips play over his. Waiting the next 500 miles just to see how long it would be before Dean stretched his arm out over the seat and buried his fingers into the hair at Sam’s neck, shooting him a sideways look and grin.  
  
When the one year anniversary of Dean’s death started to roll around Sam let the research go a bit. He didn’t pick up every newspaper in town when they stopped, didn’t open up his laptop as soon as they got to the room. And Dean didn’t say anything about it.  
  
They took it easy those last couple months, spending more time curled in bed together trading kisses and whispered conversation than they did on the road hunting.  
  
Sam’s birthday rolled around next and Dean literally dragged him to the nearest mall, treating him to a shopping spree courtesy of Barry Garlow’s brand new MasterCard. Most of Sam’s clothes were at the point where they either had holes in them or had been stained by some substance neither of them wanted to contemplate.

* * *

 

Dean tossed the last pair of jeans at Sam, stuffing all the tags he had just cut off into one of the empty plastic bags.  
  
“I’m gonna go get us some dinner, cool?”  
  
Sam looked up from where he was pulling a size sticker off one of his new shirts.  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Anything you want?”  
  
Sam shrugged, “Naw, whatever’s cool.”  
  
“Alright,” Dean said, shrugging on his jacket and pulling the Impala’s keys from his pocket, before bending down to kiss Sam.  
  
“I’ll be back in a few.”  
  
“Alright,” Sam said, snapping off another tag as the door shut.

* * *

 

“Hey,” Dean grinned, coming back in the door a half hour later with his hands full of bags.  
  
“Whatdya get?”  
  
“A surprise,” Dean smirked, dumping the bags onto the small side table before pulling out three styrofoam boxes.   
  
He slumped down onto the bed beside Sam holding out one of the boxes and setting the third one down in front of them, popping the top and showing off the still steaming buttery cheese-garlic biscuits inside.  
  
“Oh man, you went to  _Red Lobster_?” Sam groaned.  
  
“Yup,” Dean laughed, handing over a set of plastic silverware. “Told ‘em it was your birthday and they totally hooked us up with the rolls,” he grinned.  
  
Sam finally popped the top to his own box, displaying a grilled steak, baked potato and a bright red lobster tail.  
  
“I got steak and shrimp, figured we could swap and share.”  
  
“Man, Dean, you really didn’t need to do this,” he said quietly.  
  
“Hey,” Dean said softly, voice deep before he leaned in to rest his forehead against Sam’s. “Happy birthday,” he grinned, pulling him into a soft kiss. “Lemme splurge for once.”  
  
Sam grinned, dimples digging deep into his cheeks and kissed Dean again before he let go, cutting into his steak and sharing his lobster in return for a few shrimp.

* * *

 

“What’s in the other bag?” Sam asked, throwing his now empty takeout box away and pointing to the bag that Dean had left on the table.  
  
“Shit,” Dean hissed, tossing his own box and jumping up from the bed to scramble over to the bag.  
  
Sam stood up and walked over as Dean slid a box out of the plastic, opened the top and started laughing.  
  
“You got me a cake?” Sam asked, slight squeak to his voice.  
  
“I got you cake, but it’s kinda more...mush now,” Dean grinned.  
  
The ice cream cake was slowly melting, little rivers of chocolate oozing out of the falling sides of the white icing. ‘Happy Birthday Sammy’ smudged and crooked as the icing it was drawn on had started to shift.  
  
Dean pulled the chairs around side by side and handed Sam a spoon with a grin.  
  
“I don’t think we should even try to take it out of the box,” he said, watching as a glob of the icing went rolling down the side.  
  
“I think you’re right,” Sam smiled back, sitting down next to him, shoulders and knees bumping as they clashed spoons and fought playfully over the sticky mess.

* * *

 

“Thanks Dean,” Sam mumbled, laying his spoon down and glancing at him out from under his bangs. “All this...I mean...”  
  
“We’re gonna do this shit every year from now on, no more skipped holidays and missed birthdays,” he said softly, ducking his head so he could see Sam’s eyes.   
  
Sam grinned and Dean smirked back, right before he leaned in to kiss him softly.   
  
“I’m serious Sam,” he whispered.  
  
“I know,” Sam mumbled back against his lips, hand coming up to comb through Dean’s hair.  
  
Dean’s breath hitched when Sam’s tongue flicked hesitantly against the corner of his lips, swiping away a stray smear of sticky chocolate ice cream.  
  
“Sammy...”  
  
He pulled back just enough to see Sam’s eyes.  
  
“You sure?” he stammered.   
  
He had been okay with the sleeping together and trading chaste kisses...well, he hadn’t been  _okay_ , not at first, but now it was comfortable and welcome, but turning those kisses more intimate was a big step.  
  
“Yeah, but only if you want to,” Sam whispered, holding Dean’s gaze.  
  
Dean swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat and nodded ever so slightly.  
  
Sam swallowed too, like he was just then realizing what he had put into motion, but by then Dean’s hand had come up to cradle the back of his head and pulled him back into the soft ice cream flavored kiss.  
  
Something twisted in his chest, like his lungs were starved for air and his heart tight when Dean licked hesitantly across the seam of his lips.  
  
Sam sighed, closing his eyes and allowed the access that Dean was silently asking for.  
  
Their lives were twined so tightly together now, after Dean’s deal and resurrection, that it felt like everything had been heading this way. Headed towards them being closer than anyone ever had a right to be, so close nothing could ever get between them.  
  
And maybe Sam had used the cheap ploy of kissing being just a way to show affection when this had all started, when this was something intimate he wanted to share with his brother, one more bond between them, but that’s what it was to them.   
  
Winchesters had never been built for emotions and words, there was always a subtext, always something that wasn’t being said. But when Dean held him at night, when they whispered in the dark and traded soft kisses the love between them rang loud and true.  
  
Sam scooted closer to the edge of his seat, wanting to crawl closer, take away all the space between them until they were one organism, breathing and living together. He inhaled sharply through his nose, twisting his tongue with Dean’s, soft hint of sugar and icing and Dean groaned low in his throat, hand coming up to dig into Sam’s hip when Sam leaned a little too far forward and his seat rocked onto two legs.  
  
“Sammy,” Dean whispered, voice rubbed raw as he pulled back, resting his forehead against Sam’s and inhaling a sharp breath. “Fuck,” he whispered, “You sure about this?” he asked once again, always asking.  
  
“Yeah Dean, I know...” he sighed, “I know this is beyond fucked up, but you can’t tell me this doesn’t feel right, that you don’t want this. Fuck what anyone else thinks. Damnit, I  _like_  being this close to you...after, after everything, just... _fuck_.”  
  
“Yeah, I know Sammy, but snuggling and innocent kisses is one thing, playing tonsil hockey with your  _brother_  is another.”  
  
Sam laughed, one hand still buried in Dean’s hair, one resting light on his thigh.  
  
“I know,” he said softly, “I just...I don’t even know, I just...I like this, I like us, what we have now.”  
  
“Yeah,” Dean struggled. “Yeah, me too,” he whispered, leaning in to kiss Sam again.

* * *

 

It was probably way easier than it ever should have been.  
  
Sam loved, needed, the physical side of a relationship. Which sounded clingy and insecure, but it was just the way he was. He loved the little touches. The brush of hands, press of lips, rise and fall of breathing beneath his cheek.  
  
He had been the same way with Jess and if he had thought about it more, that might have given him a clue.  
  
She had always teased him about being even more of a cuddler than she was. But it was true. He’d always curl up under her chin, nuzzle the side of her neck, fingers never stilling from their slow sweep back and forth over sleep-warm skin.  
  
Ironically enough it fit perfectly with Dean.  
  
Dean was tactile. Not just when it came to relationships, but with everything.  
  
He still had the three half circle scars radiated on his palm from when he was five and just  _had_  to reach out and touch the pretty red-orange burner on the stove, just  _had_  to know how it felt, no matter how many times Dad had said no.  
  
Sam had always teased him when they were growing up about the sensual way he handled their weapons. Smooth metal barrels of a shotgun, slick sharp tip of a knife.  
  
But that was Dean. Nothing was more real than when he could reach out and touch it, run it through his hands.  
  
He had loved the soft crinkle of Cassie’s hair between his fingers. The suede-soft of her mocha skin under his hands and lips. Wet slide of tongue and drag of fingertips through sweat.   
  
He loved to just  _feel_.   
  
So mix Dean’s need to feel and Sam’s love of contact and the two of them fit together frighteningly well.   
  
Sam was the one to come out of the bathroom and into the shadows. He could see the smooth line of Dean’s shoulder from the motel sign outside as he stretched across the end table to set the alarm.  
  
“Hey,” he murmured, slipping up behind him and dropping a kiss to the jut of his shoulder blade.  
  
“Hey,” Dean mumbled back, leaning back into Sam’s warmth. Sam shifted until Dean’s back was pressed against his chest, both of them staring up at the ceiling in comfortable silence. Sam’s hand was warm and heavy over the thump of Dean’s heart, his thumb stroking back and forth over the green-black ink of the tattoo there.  
  
“Set it so we can make sure we’re outta here by checkout,” Dean said, quiet in the dark.  
  
Sam grunted behind him, nuzzling at the soft hair at the base of Dean’s neck.  
  
“Thanks,” Sam mumbled.  
  
Dean turned his head, craning his neck until he could meet his eyes.  
  
“For today,” Sam finished quietly, looking away before meeting Dean’s eyes again.  
  
“I told you dude, we’re not skipping these things anymore,” Dean whispered, shifting until he could wedge his shoulder under Sam’s arm.  
  
“I know...I just...”   
  
“I know,” Dean said quietly, leaning up to kiss him softly, his tongue hesitantly meeting Sam’s in a sleepy kiss.  
  
Sam hummed in his throat, shifting until he could bury his nose under Dean’s chin.  
  
Dean just chuckled quietly, pulling him tighter against him, drifting off to the lullaby of the highway outside set to the metronome of Sam’s heart.


	4. Chapter 4

Sam looked up from where he had been leafing through their dad’s journal, one leg propped up on his knee and the laptop open in front of him, its screensaver flowing endlessly on.  
  
Dean nudged the motel room door closed with his foot, too busy wiping the grease off his hands with what used to be an old t-shirt.  
  
“Oil’s changed and she’s greased,” he smiled, teeth blindingly white through the grime on his face. “But if we don’t have any other pressing matters I wanna head up to Bobby’s.”  
  
“What’s wrong?”  
  
“Nothing, just getting time to do some regular maintenance that I can’t do in a parking lot.”

Sam nodded, “I still don’t understand how you can get so filthy doing something as simple as changing oil,” he said, grinning at Dean.  
  
“What can I say Sammy, I like bein’ dirty,” Dean shot back, waggling his eyebrows.  
  
Sam rolled his eyes, chuckling quietly to himself.  
  
At least until Dean bent down to give him a kiss, Sam automatically turning his own face up on reflex, meeting Dean’s lips in a slow kiss.  
  
Right when he was relaxed and boneless under Dean’s mouth, still somewhat unused to being able to have that kind of comfort and affection even after all this time, Dean grabbed his face in both hands, dragging his black fingers down his cheeks before laughing hysterically and bolting for the bathroom door.  
  
“Oh my god! I’m gonna kill you!” Sam shouted, jumping up from his seat but being thwarted by the bathroom door slamming shut in his face, Dean’s laughter muffled through the cheap plywood.  
  
“Just you wait!” Sam yelled, pounding in the door with his fist, smiling despite himself.  
  
He walked over to the cracked mirror above the dingy dresser and groaned quietly, seeing the impromptu war paint all over his face.  
  
Slowly he grinned and went and grabbed Dean’s favorite flannel from his duffle bag before going back to the mirror to wipe most of the black grit from his face, quietly replacing the shirt back where it came from when he was done.

* * *

 

Dean was outside, buried beneath the car when Sam took out a couple ice cold beers.  
  
There was a ridiculous heat wave sweeping through and despite it being the middle of October it was still in the nineties during the day, and yes, Bobby had checked to make sure it was just a normal weather anomaly.  
  
Sam stepped over and straddled Dean’s hips, smiling when Dean went on oblivious, cursing about something as Sam heard the socket wrench clang against metal.  
  
He tipped the beer bottle until a drop of cold condensation rolled around the round bottom and dripped down onto the swath of skin above Dean’s belt, where his t-shirt had ridden up from twisting around on the creeper.  
  
“Son of a bitch!” Dean jolted, something banging the underside of the car again before he yanked himself out from underneath the car, the creeper grating over the old concrete until he was glaring up at Sam’s ridiculously tall frame still standing astride him.  
  
“You’re gonna pay for that,” he growled.  
  
Sam rolled his eyes, smiled to himself and then squatted down, hovering over Dean’s chest.  
  
“Whatever, I have cold beer, you know that’s instant forgiveness.”  
  
Dean glared but took the offered bottle anyways.  
  
“You wanna ease up on the personal space intrusion?”  
  
Sam rolled his eyes, again, but moved to crouch down in front of the bumper.  
  
“Like we have anything resembling personal space anymore.”  
  
“Dude,  _Bobby_...you know I’m fine with what we got, but it ain’t exactly orthodox. Bobby’ll tolerate a lot, but I dunno ‘bout this.”  
  
“Bobby’s out front grilling burgers.”  
  
“Yeah?” Dean asked, slight hopeful tinge to his voice.  
  
“Yeah,” Sam grinned back, leaning in and planting his hand beside Dean’s head on the sun-hot metal of the chrome bumper.  
  
Dean smirked back, draping his arm across his knee, bottle hanging loosely from his grease-grey fingers. He was about to lean in until he saw a movement from the house.  
  
Movement that happened to be Bobby walking by the kitchen window, Dean saw him hesitate right past the window’s frame, only to take one step backwards in order to look out the grimy glass.  
  
Dean reached out and shoved Sam’s shoulder, sending him sprawling out over the ground and spilling his beer all over the thirsty concrete.  
  
“Dude! What the hell was that for?!”  
  
“Bobby’s at the window,” Dean hissed, shoving his own bottle at Sam as a silent peace offering before ducking back under the shade of the Impala.  
  
He heard Sam wiping his hands off on his jeans, obviously aggravated and swept his foot to the side until it collided with Sam’s boot.  
  
“Look man,” he mumbled from under the car, “I know this sucks, we’ve both gotten used to...whatever it is we’re doing, but I just don’t feel right doing it at Bobby’s alright?”  
  
“Yeah, I know,” Sam sighed, taking Dean’s words for the apology they were meant to be.  
  
“Soon as I’m done with our girl here we’ll find somewhere to go and it’ll be back to normal.”  
  
Sam smiled and nodded, despite the fact that Dean couldn’t see him and knocked his boot back against Dean’s.

* * *

 

They found somewhere to go alright. One of Bobby’s contacts called him, asking him if he knew anyone that could take a case in Tennessee. Kids were being picked off and Bobby had barely been done explaining it to them when Dean was throwing their bags back into the car.  
  
They left early morning, drove through the day and were running on sugar and caffeine to hunt down the evil bastard that night.  
  
Sam didn’t remember much of his shower, convinced he had slept through it, only thing he was concerned with now were the four steps it would take him to faceplant into the soft mattress, which in actuality was just as crappy as every other motel bed in existence, but damn did it look inviting.  
  
He groaned into the pillow, splayed wide on top of the sheets and mumbled something that even he didn’t understand when Dean told him not to suffocate while he took his own shower.  
  
Dean must have taken a speed shower, or else Sam had fallen asleep and lost time again, which was entirely possible, because it seemed like mere seconds later when he felt the mattress dip under Dean’s weight.  
  
Dean chuckled quietly, he was beat himself, but seeing Sam so completely out of it was hilarious. He pushed the heel of his hand into the soft muscle and ran it up the line of Sam’s spine, smiling when Sam sighed and melted under the touch like a cat.  
  
“Oh god Dean...”  
  
He chuckled again, reaching behind himself to shut off the light before draping himself across Sam’s back.  
  
Again Sam sighed, content and warm under Dean’s bulk, shifting back against him slightly and tangling his fingers awkwardly with where Dean’s hand had snaked under his chest.  
  
“Mmm,” Dean hummed. “Missed this,” he finished quietly, planting a soft kiss on Sam’s shoulder blade.  
  
Sam squeezed his fingers. “Me too,” he mumbled.   
  
A week at Bobby’s unable to do much more than steal a quick kiss here or there had been more frustrating than he thought it would have been. He was just too tired at the moment to think too hard about it and merely melted into sleep, safe and warm, wrapped up in Dean.

* * *

 

Dean laughed, watching Sam skillfully  _almost_  miss the left pocket of the pool table. He shook his head and headed to the bar as he heard Sam laughing and talking smack with the guys at the table.  
  
They were decent guys, a gruff mix of truck drivers, bikers and all around blue collar hard workers. They weren’t hustling them, didn’t rip off the honest folk unless they had no choice, but it was still fun, still good to sharpen the skills while kicked back and relaxing for once.  
  
Dean had been shamelessly flirting with the bartender all night. Cute little thing with brunette curls wrapped up in a black tank top, thigh-less jeans and cowboy boots. She grinned and chuckled at his ridiculous smile and wink before heading over to serve him.  
  
“’Nother round?”  
  
“Yup,” he grinned, eyeing her ass as she collected the mix and match set of labels for all the boys at the table.  
  
“Gotta say, don’t get many people in here that can actually beat Billy at his own game,” she grinned, snapping caps off one at a time.  
  
“We travel a lot, practically live in bars,” he shrugged.  
  
“Uh huh, we’ll you’ve got an hour left before I have to kick you out of your home sweet home,” she smiled, “unless of course you wanna stick around after close,” she finished, shooting him a look from under her lashes that there was no mistaking.  
  
Dean froze, drug his bottom lip through his teeth, eyes half squinted. “Is that right...” he drawled.  
  
“Yo! Dean!” one of the guys called from the table. Holding up his empty beer bottle and waving it in the air when Dean turned to look over his shoulder.  
  
Dean grinned and then caught Sam’s eye, he was sitting on a barstool draining the last of his own beer and smirked, slight tilt of his lips that told Dean he knew exactly what was keeping him. Then he tilted his eyebrow up in a silent question of whether Dean wanted him to head back alone or not.  
  
“You know,” Dean said, turning back to the bar, “I’d love to, really, but I can’t, I’m kinda...taken,” he finished, a bit surprised by his own answer.  
  
“No problem,” she shrugged, grinning, “Can’t blame a girl for trying.”  
  
“Certainly can’t,” he grinned back, flirting back even easier now that it was all just for fun.  
  
She finally laughed and let him leave when the guys started cat calling and bitching about their missing beer.  
  
“Alright, alright, shut up,” he grinned, handing out their respective bottles and taking their shit talking about the girl.  
  
He smiled, taking his seat beside Sam and taking a pull from his own bottle.  
  
“Swing and a miss?”  
  
“Psht, please,” he said, shooting Sam a look from the side, “Dean Winchester don’t miss.”  
  
Sam laughed, shaking his head and turned back to watch the pool game.  
  
“You about ready to get out of here?” Dean asked a few minutes later, after last call.  
  
“Sure,” Sam said slowly, saying bye to the guys before following Dean out to the Impala, sitting cool and black under a blacker sky.  
  
“You’re not gonna stick around?” he asked, boots crunching through the gravel parking lot as they made their way to the car.  
  
“Nah,” Dean said, shrugging and focusing on the keys in his hand. “Told her I was taken,” he finished quietly, standing beside the driver’s door.  
  
Sam’s hand froze on his own handle, staring across the roof at Dean.  
  
“Are you?” he asked quietly, swallowing hard against the sudden tightness in his throat.  
  
Dean’s eyes finally came up to meet his, “Maybe,” he said quietly, holding his gaze for a minute before finally looking away and getting into the car.

* * *

 

Sam held on to the arm rest the entire, albeit short, ride back to the motel, shooting glances over at Dean every minute or two.  
  
Dean of course noticed them all and just progressively tightened his grip on the steering wheel until his knuckles were bloodless white.  
  
He wasn’t exactly sure how this was going to play out. Hell, he wasn’t exactly sure how he  _wanted_  it to play out.  
  
He still wasn’t sure why he did what he did, said what he had.  
  
Sure, he and Sam had been way closer than any  _brothers_  had a right to be ever since he came back and sure they crossed some pretty taboo lines, but it just...wasn’t that big a deal, not to them. But this...  
  
There was no denying the crackling tension in the car. It hadn’t been this thick between them since they started whatever the hell this was. The touches and smiles had come easier and easier as time had gone on and now it was like a wall had slammed down between them and they were both grasping onto their side of the car hesitant and nervous to cross that see through line down the middle of the seat.  
  
Neither of them broke the silence until they were back at the motel, the door clicked hesitantly shut behind them.  
  
“Dean...”  
  
“I dunno, okay?” Dean cut him off, rubbing a shaking hand down his face before collapsing on the foot of the bed, dropping his face into his hands just so he wouldn’t have to meet Sam’s eyes.  
  
He could hear Sam pull out one of the little chairs from the small dinette, scraping across the thin carpet and the soft creak as Sam settled into it, in front of and just barely to the left of where Dean was sitting.  
  
He felt the slight weight of Sam’s boot settling next to his, barest touch and heaved a sigh.  
  
“I dunno, she asked and I just...” he trailed off, finally dropping his hands to stare at the place where leather met rubber, point of connection between them. “I didn’t wanna leave you,” he finished quietly.  
  
“Wouldn’t be the first time either of us has been with someone since...” Sam said just as quietly, finishing with a wave of his hand in the space between them, one gesture encompassing this giant  _thing_  between them.  
  
“I know,” Dean whispered, “I know and I just...I dunno,” he whispered, finally looking up to make eye contact for a brief moment before averting his eyes again. “It’s not even like I’ve thought about it, I mean yeah, we’re you know,  _close_ , but I hadn’t, I never...”  
  
“Me either,” Sam said softly, “That’s not what this is...or  _was_.”  
  
“Sam,” Dean whispered, closing his eyes and dropping his head towards the floor again.  
  
“It’s okay,” Sam said quietly, leaning forward, bridging that gap between them. “I hadn’t thought about it either, until now at least, but well...I’m not as freaked out as I prolly should be. I mean...this is us we’re talking about, there’s nothing that could... _Dean_ ,” he said, voice breaking over the name.  
  
“I know,” he answered quietly, finally meeting Sam’s gaze and holding it, leaning his foot into the pressure of where Sam’s rested.  
  
“It’s us, we started all this for...to show...”  
  
“I know,” Dean smirked, love clear in his eyes, amused Sam was having just as hard a time with words as he was.  
  
“Is this really that much more?”  
  
“Sam,” he sighed, “Jesus Sam, this is like...a big deal.”  
  
“To us? In this life?” he paused. “We’re never gonna have this with anyone else, you _know_  that. Would it be such a bad thing? After everything we’ve been through?”  
  
“That makes it all okay?”  
  
“Maybe not to everyone else, no. But seriously. There’s no out of this life, we both know that, even if we ‘retire’ we’re gonna end up like Bobby with our finger’s still in the cookie jar. There’s never gonna be picket fences for us, maybe chain link with razor wire on top,” he smirked.  
  
Dean smirked too, wringing his fingers together.  
  
“And I for one am never letting you go,” he added in a whisper.  
  
“Sammy...”  
  
“I know, I’m not saying I’m not hesitant about this, but I can’t really see any downsides either, besides the obvious not going public with it thing. But then again, we’ve basically been dealing with that all along.”  
  
Dean closed his eyes and sighed. He had promised Sam no walls and if Sam ever figured some way to drag it out of him he wouldn’t deny that he loved what they had, where they were at. Sure it was twisted and wrong on certain levels, to some people at least, be had never felt more connected, closer to his brother, to the only thing he had left in his life than when they were curled up in bed after a hunt just sharing oxygen.  
  
Sam knew that Dean would never make a move until he was 110% sure that Sam was okay with it. That’s how this whole thing started, Sam pretty much had to instigate everything, reassure Dean that he was okay with it, wanted it.  
  
And yeah, this next step was big, huge, but it was them, there wasn’t one other person in Sam’s life that was so ingrained into who and what he was. Dean was his life, no way around it, Hell had found that out the hard way.  
  
He reached forward slowly and laid his hand on Dean’s knee, feeling Dean freeze under the touch.  
  
Slowly he slid it up, not pushing any lines yet, just moving the warmth up over the swell of Dean’s thigh.  
  
“Sam,” Dean sighed.  
  
“It’s okay,” Sam whispered, moving to sit on the bed next to Dean. “I don’t wanna push you, why don’t we just...act like normal, see where it goes.”  
  
“Jesus,” Dean hissed, letting Sam nuzzle up under his jaw, turning into the soft touch until Sam’s lips closed over his.  
  
This he knew, this he was used to but this time it was accompanied by a low thrum of heat that started in the depth of his chest and he knew was spreading a flush up his neck.  
  
“It’s just me,” Sam whispered, pulling Dean with his mouth until they were side by side stretched out on the bed.  
  
Sam could practically feel Dean melt under his hands, the moment when Dean let it all go and fell into wherever this went.  
  
He eased himself up over Sam, taking his weight on his knees, keeping the connection with their lips. He sighed against Sam’s mouth before slowly moving, dragging his lips over the burn of stubble and trailing kisses along Sam’s jaw line.  
  
Sam sighed against him, tilting his head to allow Dean more room to work. He curled his fingers in Dean’s worn-soft t-shirt and tugged it upwards awkwardly.  
  
Dean just started laughing softly, burying his face in the crook of Sam’s shoulder.  
  
Sam laughed too, sliding his hand up into Dean’s hair.  
  
“I know,” Sam said quietly, “This is so weird.”  
  
“You wanna stop?” Dean asked, sitting up to look at Sam.  
  
“No...I don’t.”  
  
Dean just swallowed hard and nodded, reaching behind him and yanking the t-shirt over his head. He started to lean back down when Sam placed his hand on his chest and sat up enough to take off his own shirt.  
  
“We really doing this?” Dean whispered.  
  
Sam didn’t answer, just leaned forward and sucked the skin where the circle of Dean’s tattoo sat over his heart.  
  
Dean sighed again, wrapping his fingers in Sam’s hair.  
  
“Let me Sam,” he whispered, pushing him back down onto the bed. Sam recognized that look in his eyes, the look that said Dean  _needed_  to take care of him. He had this drive, this mission burned into his blood to take care of Sam and while sometimes it infuriated him, he wasn’t a kid anymore, sometimes it was still nice to let go, to let Dean take care of everything, it felt good to have a love and devotion that powerful all pointed straight at him.  
  
Sam leaned back and trembled under Dean’s lips.  
  
Dean nibbled his way down Sam’s neck, leaving the skin over his collarbone flushed and red before swirling his tongue down and around Sam’s nipple, shivering under Sam’s hands when he felt Sam’s chest inhale shakily.  
  
He placed his own soft kiss against Sam’s twin tattoo before sitting up and holding Sam’s eyes, his trembling fingers fumbled to unbutton his jeans before slowly pulling them off Sam’s mile long legs.  
  
“Dean,” Sam whispered, holding his hand out and prompting Dean to crawl back over him.  
  
Dean eased his way up and kissed Sam, slow and deep, like they did almost every night. Sam reached between them and unbuttoned Dean’s jeans, slipping his fingers under the waistband and up around to the hollow of Dean’s back.  
  
Dean broke the kiss, inhaling deep and rolled his forehead against Sam’s, eyes closed against the emotion.  
  
“Don’t really have a lot of practice at this,” Dean whispered, fingers hesitantly wrapping around the heat between Sam’s legs.  
  
“Neither do I,” Sam mumbled, kissing Dean again, “Somehow I think we’ll be okay,” he grinned.  
  
Dean smiled too, slowly stroking him to hardness, watching the way Sam’s pupils dilated in the low light.   
  
“Talk to me Sammy,” he whispered, brushing his lips over his brother’s.  
  
“’S’good,” Sam mumbled, nipping at Dean’s full bottom lip, slipping his thumb into one of Dean’s belt loops and dragging the denim down over one hip.  
  
“Alright,” Dean mumbled, completely enamored with watching the way Sam slipped in and out of his fist before sitting up, dragging that same hand over his mouth before standing and shucking off his jeans.  
  
Sam just groaned and pulled him back down against him, skin slick and flushed hot, kissing Dean again, hand snaking between them to return the favor.  
  
Dean groaned, deep and low in his chest, burying his face in Sam’s neck and sucking a bruise into the soft skin as Sam squeezed tighter.  
  
Sam fumbled for a moment before wrapping his hand around both of them, hot press of skin in his palm and Dean groaned shifting so he could rest his forehead against Sam’s again and huffed out a laugh.  
  
“What?” Sam said quietly.  
  
“Kinda weird,” Dean smiled, eyelashes sticking together.  
  
Sam grinned, “Yeah, but ‘s’kinda awesome too,” he mumbled, still stroking them together.  
  
“Yeah,” Dean said unconsciously, too busy watching Sam’s mouth, finally glancing down to see where their bodies were connected.   
  
He groaned and buried his face against Sam’s chest.  
  
“God, I can’t believe we’re doing this,” he mumbled against the flushed skin.  
  
“Pretty sure God’s got nothing to do with it,” Sam grinned, releasing his hold and slipping his hand around and up Dean’s back.  
  
Dean just laughed and looked back up at him, kissing him softly.  
  
“What?” Sam asked, a little unnerved by the way Dean was staring at him.  
  
“Nothing,” Dean grinned, soft and slow before sitting back on his knees and shifting down the bed.  
  
“Dean?” Sam asked quietly, sitting up enough to lean on his elbows.  
  
“Let me Sammy?” Dean whispered, body bowing over Sam’s as he took his length back into his hand.  
  
“You don’t have to...”  
  
“I know,” Dean said softly, leaning forward and kissing the tip, dipping his tongue into the slit.  
  
Sam groaned and held Dean’s eyes as Dean slowly sank down, taking as much as he could into his mouth, before choking.  
  
“Jesus Dean,” Sam hissed, running his fingers through his short hair, “You seriously don’t have to.”  
  
“’S’alright, just outta practice,” Dean winked.  
  
“That’s not funny.”  
  
Dean chuckled and slowly mouthed at the smooth heat before slowly sucking on the tip again, only taking as much as he could this time, and stroking slow with his hand what he couldn’t.  
  
“ _Jesus_ ,” hissed Sam, head thumping back against the pillow as he tried not to buck into the slick heat, the heavy weight of Dean’s hand keeping his hips pinned to the bed.  
  
Dean pulled off slow, releasing Sam with an obscene pop.  
  
“Pretty sure Jesus doesn’t have anything to do with it either,” Dean grinned, lips swollen and slick with spit.  
  
Sam glared half-heartedly. “Fuck you.”  
  
“Want to?” Dean asked quietly, still stroking Sam, running his hand down to cup the heavy weight of his balls before glancing up at him from under his lashes.  
  
Sam’s chest went tight, he knew Dean would let him. Dean would let him do anything.   
  
“No,” Sam answered just as quietly, “Want you to.”  
  
“Sam,” Dean mumbled, sitting back on his thighs as Sam sat up in front him. “I’ve done this before...kinda, I mean...I don’t care if I’m the one...”  
  
“Dean,” Sam whispered, shutting him up with a kiss, “I want you to. I wanna feel you,” he mumbled, tongue tangling with Dean’s and his hand dragging down the line of his chest, fingers catching and tugging on the leather cord of Dean’s necklace.  
  
He rolled the little brass figure between his fingers, breaking the kiss to glance down at the pendant in his hand before glancing back up at Dean.  
  
Dean slid his hand over the side of Sam’s head, slotting his fingers up into his hair.  
  
“Okay Sammy,” he whispered.  
  
He shifted, tried to get his feet out from under him so he could grab the bottle of Astroglide he kept in his duffle but the sheets had been tangled from all their twisting and shifting and next thing he knew he was slipping off the bed and landing hard on his ass.  
  
“Son of a bitch!” he grunted, his head thumping back against the carpet, laughing at the ridiculous mess he made.  
  
“Think it’s a sign?” he mumbled, glancing up at Sam with a smirk.  
  
“Of what?”  
  
“That this is going to end in disaster and we should stop?”  
  
Dean was still grinning and clearly joking but Sam snaked his arm around and grabbed his ankle anyways from where it was still halfway tangled in the bed sheet.  
  
“Oh no you don’t, you are not fucking leaving me with blue balls,” he grinned, yanking against Dean’s weight.  
  
“Ow! You asshole!” Dean cursed, pulling back against Sam’s ridiculous grip. “I’m gonna get rug burn on my ass!” he laughed, striking out at Sam with his free foot and managing to land a blow to Sam’s solar plexus.  
  
“Mother fuck!” Sam hissed, releasing Dean’s foot and flopping back onto the bed.  
  
Dean chuckled and twisted over, digging his hand into the little side pocket on his duffle and returning to the bed with the small bottle in his hand.  
  
“Sorry Sammy,” he whispered, starting at his navel and trailing a string of kisses up his body and over his hand where it was still rubbing the red imprint of Dean’s heel. “Know I would never hurt you,” he mumbled, finally returning to Sam’s mouth and stealing away any thought Sam had of retaliation.  
  
Sam chuckled deep in his chest and abandoned rubbing at the bruise in favor of threading his fingers through Dean’s hair.  
  
“We’re such a mess,” he grinned against Dean’s mouth.  
  
“I kinda like us that way,” Dean smiled back.  
  
“Yeah,” Sam sighed, eyes going soft as Dean slid his hand, warm and wide across his stomach.  
  
Sam reached for Dean’s other hand, uncurling his fingers and taking the bottle of lube from him, snapping the cap open and then taking Dean’s hand in his and squeezing out some of the cool gel onto his fingers.  
  
Dean just watched Sam’s face the whole time, swallowing hard when Sam finally met his eyes again.  
  
He slid his own hands back into Dean’s hair and pulled him back into a kiss.  
  
He could feel Dean sigh, his chest pressing against his own as it expanded before Dean trailed one finger, the lube still cool, down the underside of his cock.   
  
Sam inhaled sharp and Dean’s eyes popped open, instantly locked with his.  
  
“’S’alright, jus’ cold,” Sam grinned and Dean smirked back, rubbing his fingers together in an effort to heat them up before cupping the weight of Sam’s balls in his palm, barely grazing one fingertip over the ring of muscle.  
  
His eyes skittered over Sam’s face, taking in every twitch and nuance, slowly stroking back and forth with the barest pressure until Sam was pushing down onto his hand.  
  
“Fuck, come on Dean,” he whispered, one hand clawed into the meat of Dean’s chest while he shivered under his touch.  
  
Dean kissed him softly finally slipping his finger inside that tight heat, pushing in and out in easy, smooth motion.  
  
“Fuckin’ hell Sammy...” he breathed, glancing down to watch where they touched.  
  
Again he glanced up at Sam as he smeared a little more of the lube around and added a second finger.  
  
“Dean...”  
  
“Alright, alright,” he whispered, shifting so that he was braced above Sam. He closed his eyes and just inhaled deep until Sam’s warm hand slid down his stomach and wrapped around the base of his cock.  
  
“C’mere.”  
  
Dean leaned forward and kissed him again, positioning himself against Sam and pushing slightly.  
  
Sam inhaled and rocked his forehead against Dean’s, willing his body to relax.  
  
Slowly Dean sunk in, inch by inch until he was fully seated in Sam,  _in Sam._  
  
“Sammy,” he said quietly, kissing him again. “Dunno if I can last...” he mumbled, the flush from his neck spreading up to his cheeks.  
  
“’S’okay Dean, ‘s’okay...” he rambled.  
  
Dean closed his eyes and pulled out just enough to rock back into the tight heat. Sam moaned underneath him and he opened his eyes again to watch the way Sam’s neck corded when he threw his head back. The way his chest swelled every time Dean slid into him.  
  
“Dean,” Sam whispered, reopening his own eyes and locking with Dean’s.  
  
“I know,” Dean answered quietly, “I know,” he sighed leaning forward to kiss him again.  
  
They rocked together slow and sure, Sam pushing back against Dean just as much as Dean pushed into him. Sam moaned when Dean drug out slow and there was an added spark of pleasure, wrapping his leg around Dean’s hip and dragging him back inside.  
  
“Want this too Sammy,” Dean mumbled, grazing kisses down Sam’s neck, “Wanna feel you inside me like this too.”  
  
Sam strangled a sob in his throat and raked his fingers across Dean’s shoulders.  
  
“Wanna feel you,” he breathed into Dean’s mouth and that’s all it took. Dean shuddered against him, locking eyes and sharing oxygen and Sam felt him stiffen and shiver, still buried deep inside him.  
  
“Sammy,” he breathed, finally inhaling again, blinking open his eyes as Sam leaned back into the pillows.  
  
Dean went to shift and Sam locked his leg tighter around him.   
  
“No, just like this.”  
  
Dean nodded, leaning forward to kiss him again as he reached between them and brought Sam back to hardness with the heat of his hand, rocking ever so slightly into him, making sure he could still feel Dean deep inside.  
  
Sam moaned, thrusting up into Dean’s hand, it didn’t take long before the warmth washed across Dean’s knuckles.  
  
They both laid there together, foreheads pressed together, catching their breath.  
  
“Wanna take a shower, or just clean up?”  
  
“Shower in the mornin,’” Sam mumbled, running his hand down Dean’s arm.  
  
Dean chuckled and kissed the tip of his nose.  
  
“Ready?”  
  
Sam blinked his eyes open and stared for a second before he realized what Dean was asking.  
  
Finally he nodded, closing his eyes as Dean pulled out slowly.  
  
He heard the water run in the bathroom and Dean reappeared a moment later with a warm washcloth, taking care in wiping down Sam’s stomach and gently between his legs.  
  
He looked up to see Sam watching him with a soft smile on his face and just smirked and went back to the bathroom to clean himself.  
  
Sam moaned quietly when Dean slipped in beside him and pulled the blanket up over them. He shifted onto his stomach and propped his head on the pillow so he could look at Dean from the side.  
  
Dean chuckled, running his hand up and down where Sam’s arm was flung across his stomach until Sam reached out and snagged his fingers in his.  
  
“Dude,” Dean smirked, “holding hands? Seriously?”  
  
Sam grinned and bent Dean’s fingers back sharply and Dean yelped instantly pushing back against him, reaching over and tickling Sam’s side with his other hand when Sam wouldn’t let him go.  
  
“You bastard,” he grinned, turning to follow where Sam was trying to twist after him.  
  
Sam laughed and pushed against his chest. “Alright, alright, mercy” he grinned, letting up on the pressure he had on Dean’s fingers but still not letting go.  
  
Dean rolled his eyes and settled back, looking down at Sam with a fond smile when Sam draped himself half across him.  
  
“Dude...I do  _not_  cuddle!”  
  
Sam just rolled his eyes and threw his leg over Dean’s.  
  
“Whatever you gotta tell yourself man, we’ve been cuddling for months.”  
  
There was a suspicious moment of silence before Dean mumbled, “Yeah, well, you tell anyone and I’ll have to kill you.”  
  
“Mmmhmm,” Sam mumbled, “How you gonna bring me back this time?” he smirked, tilting his head to look up at Dean.  
  
“Shut up...bitch,” Dean grinned.  
  
“Jerk,” Sam whispered, pulling Dean into a kiss, which to this day was still the easiest way he had found to shut him up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  [](http://s16.photobucket.com/albums/b22/montecarlogurl87/FicBanners/?action=view&current=longway.jpg)   
>    
>  _original manip by mkitty3, used with permission_   
> 


End file.
